


A Queen's favour

by ObsidianButterfly



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Het, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianButterfly/pseuds/ObsidianButterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An older Anaís prepares for a potential marriage to the Redanian King. The Queen has harboured feelings for her saviour Vernon Roche for sometime, he had no idea, until she makes him a proposition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Queen's favour

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly slightly canon altering as I haven't played the Witcher 3 yet and don't know much of the plot, but I understand Anaís is pretty much not mentioned. Just a little fic that has been bouncing about my head since playing the Witcher 2 and watching Roche walk off hand in hand with Anaís in one ending, or the kid playing quite happily around the big scare Special forces Commander while waiting for Geralt in Loch Muinne was pretty cute. I shouldn't ship it, but I do. I can imagine her growing up thinking Roche was the bravest man in the world for fighting off Dethmold.

 

There is still a small shred of child-like fancy in her, surprising given that she wasn't given much of a childhood at all, but she practically dances around him gleefully, proud of her achievement. If he were a real enemy then Roche would have recovered from her successful attack by now and killed the Queen while she was being distractingly smug.

'Getting slow in your old age, Vernon?'

It's always Vernon, she refuses to call him by anything else, and most don’t bother. Roche is the usual, a grudging ‘Commander’ by others. It’s only Roche with her if he is in trouble, and the last time she called him Commander, he was in the doghouse for a week without a word uttered to him in the entire time.

Roche rubbed his shoulder; it was a little stiff where the rounded tip of her practice sword hit him. Anaís was good, not as good as him though, but he will concede that it was a lucky shot.

'Your footwork is sloppy and you are holding your blade too loosely, you did not deserve that point.'

She ignores his harsh tone with a bright smile, still ecstatic in her victory, the first against him, but probably not her last. Maybe she was right; maybe he is getting too old for this.

Anaís cuffs him on the shoulder like any other of his commandos and hangs up her sword. They have obviously finished for today. As Queen she dictates her schedule and if she decided that they had finished then there would be nothing Roche could do to convince her otherwise, more training needed or not.

'You're such a sore loser.' She goads at his grumbling, flicking long tightly-braided blond hair over one shoulder.

He scowls at her, fully aware that he has long ceased to be an intimidating figure, her father’s silent, taciturn, assassin. Roche wonders if this happened the first night he and Geralt saved her from Dethmold, but he remembers the little girl and her brother that used to hide behind their mothers legs watching him warily when Foltest went to visit.

They walk a short distance from the sparring ring to her tent. The Temerian camp was awash with activity, and the crash of metal on metal is almost deafening as more than one group of soldiers practice.

Roche trails slightly behind the Queen, hand on the hilt of his sword. One cannot be too careful, even among allies. He found himself playing bodyguard more than military over the last few years, and after what happened to Foltest, Roche didn’t really trust the Queens security to anyone else.

Two heavily armoured guards standing sentry at the opening of Anaís’ tent bow low and a revenant _'your majesty,'_ is hastily uttered to the ground as she sweeps by.

Vernon only receives suspicious looks, still, after all these years. Roche was surprised that he was even allowed alone in her company. Kingslayer was a hard title to shake off. They couldn't prove it however, but they all knew Hensalt’s death was on his hands, and while Natalis was a soldier and a practical man that understood the reasoning behind it, kingslayers were not tolerated.

Roche supposed he owed it to Anaís that he wasn't swinging from a gallows, a seven year old girl that wouldn't let go of his hand. After Geralt and he removed her from Dethmold’s clutches, he made the decision to deliver the future Queen to Natalis and keep the independence for Temerity that Foltest fought so hard for.

Natalis, he decided, would bring her up to be a strong Queen; she would learn harsh lessons in leadership from him and quick thinking on the battlefield. Roche was to silently slip away. He would escape with his life but was told, in no uncertain circumstances, to disappear. He could have lived with that. With the death of his men, and subsequent revenge on Hensalt, Roche could leave knowing that Temeria would not simply be a protectorate of Redania.

Things never _quite_ worked out that way. After a stubbornness that confirmed she was indeed Foltest's child; tears, screaming, and five long worrisome days where she point blank refused to eat despite what they tempted her with, Natalis was forced to conceded that Roche wasn't going anywhere without the child’s say so.

Roche had been surprised by the sudden attachment from the girl; he was never one for children and had no family. Most of his life was spent as a soldier, and most of his special forces were often orphans and loners like him. Dangerous jobs were not good for family life. A seven year old girl that wanted to hold his hand and have him sleep in the next room to scare away the monsters was a loss to him. He jumped on the chance when Anaís stated that she wanted to avenge her father, he could deal with training soldiers, he couldn't deal with looking after scared children.

Between himself and Natalis, they had turned the developing Queen Anaís into a well-seasoned fighter and battlefield strategist. She may even be better than her father, but Vernon wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of saying that out loud, she was already insufferably smug and everyone worshiped the ground she walked on. It was good to keep them humble regarding some things.

A teenage Anaís expressed reservations about assuming the Temerian throne, given the fact that she didn't quite believe that she and Boussy were, in fact, Foltest's children. Foltest himself was convinced, but there were others who were not sure, and those issued had been dragged before the courts on numerous occasions to be flung in her, and her council’s face.

But now that she was older, nearly twenty, Roche could see it in her face. Beautiful like her mother, but around the eyes he could see shadows of the man that he had worked for for years. Anaís was definitely Foltest’s offspring.  It was a pity Boussy didn't have a chance to grow. It may have been obvious who his father was also.

 

Once inside the tent Anaís shrugged off the light practice armour, leaving her in loose fitting shirt and supple leather trousers, and placed it neatly on the table for cleaning. Vernon had instilled in her the care for her own equipment. As Queen there would be servants to do that for her, but hours spent cleaning and polishing armour, or sharpening blades were useful ones, he felt.

A slightly less regal than normal upbringing did not mean that Anaís wasn’t royal and treated as such. Her tent was spacious and fully furnished with as many luxuries as possible. Instead of cot there was a large bed, along with far too many tables and chairs, and frivolous decorations. They were much comfier surroundings than the general soldiers.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Roche contemplated wearily the workload he would still need to do today. They were on their way to Redania to negotiate terms of Anaís’ potential marriage to Radovid. Temeria would retain her independence and, in theory, both nations would be stronger for it. Politically it was advantageous, personally it was a nightmare. Anaís and Radovid just didn't get on; they were both too determined and strong willed. Radovid was conservative and expected a quiet, unassuming wife that would sew and content herself with providing children. Anaís acted as if she were a soldier and retained the last word on any operation he or Natalis were running.

Geralt had wondered why Roche didn’t bother just handing the girl over to the Redanian King at the time of her rescue, if she was going to end up married to him after all. But Roche felt this had worked out for the best. While not entirely happy with the prospect of a Temerian Queen forced to marry that Redanian bastard, at least she had had a chance to grow into adulthood out from under his clutches, to develop her own personality and leadership. Anaís was loved in Temeria in a way Radovid was not, he couldn’t brush her aside quite so easily as a simpering, stupid, wife that he tried with Adda.

 

'Admit I'm good, Vernon.' She teased, pouring some sort of liquid into two tankards, Vernon wasn’t sure if it were wine or ale.

'You are getting better,' He grumbled. 'But there is always room for improvement, your majesty. '

Anaís scoffed at the title. She had never successfully managed to dissuade him from using it, despite her constant over familiarity with him. She acted more like one of his commandos at times rather than a Queen and she treated Ves like a sister: sister that had taught her to drink and gamble, and some very questionable combat tactics at that.

The favour Vernon received from Anaís was a raw bone of contention amongst the knights and nobility. She had allowed him to reform a commando unit of which he was still in charge, despite numerous protests from Natalis. She asked his opinion before her advisors, she treated him like her own personal bodyguard and she still carried the dagger that he had given her all those years ago in Loch Muinne on her person.

He was resented for his position, but then again, he had been resented as Foltest’s right hand too. Although some complained, it came in useful when they needed him to persuade her of the benefits of a marriage with Radovid when she would have no sooner spat on the man. It was Roche who braved her anger and managed to talk her round, while Natalis had a full bottle of very expensive Caingorn wine thrown at him for suggesting it.

‘Have a drink, Vernon.’ Anaís cajoled as she handed him one of the tankards.

‘It isn’t even midday.’ Roche muttered. ‘I still need to run drills with the commandos, and recalibrate the-‘

‘Oh, have a day off.’ She huffed, throwing herself into an ornate carved chair.

Roche took a small sip, grimacing at the taste; dwarven ale. Radovid would be thrilled to have a wife that drank worse alcohol than half the army, and probably drink them under the table too.

He sat the cup aside. ‘If we could go over the security for your meeting with-‘

A disgusted huff cut him off mid-sentence. ‘Can we talk about something else?’

The Queen could sound petulantly whiney when she put her mind to it.

‘Your marriage with Radovid-‘

‘Yes, yes, I’m marrying that slimy bastard, can I have one more day not to think about it.’

‘If you could try and refrain from calling him a slimy bastard then the ambassadors will thank you for it.’ Roche smirked despite himself.

‘Fine. I don’t suppose _whoreson_ is any better.’

Roche fought not to laugh, it would only encourage her. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he could feel a headache coming on. Anaís was in one of her moods where she refused to take things seriously.

‘If you mutter whoreson within ten feet of any Redanian tomorrow I will have Natalis confine you to your tent and you will be made to wear that dress you hated.’

Anaís pouted and stuck her tongue out at him. ‘I’m not wearing that monstrosity. I looked like a dessert.’

Sighing heavily Roche picked up his mug again, he would definitely need more alcohol to get through the next few days. ‘You do not need to wear that particular one, but please pick something else.’

Anaís opened her mouth and Roche foresaw fresh complaining, so cut her off quickly. ‘You are not wearing your armour to meet a king and potential husband. Pick. Something. Else.’

There was shrewd calculation behind the Queens eyes, and jaw remained tense as she considered her options. He would need to have her ladies in waiting check just what she was wearing tomorrow before she was allowed out of the royal tent.

‘Fine. I’ll pick out something nice.’ She said with false sincerity, rising to refill her cup.

Roche could just tell that he hadn’t had the last of this argument. Anaís knew when to pick and choose her battles, and she circumnavigated both Roche and Natalis more often than not.

‘One can hope he will be assassinated by tomorrow.’

She was joking in poor taste. The prospect of the marriage wasn’t completely awful and they had a lot of negotiations to run through first. She had even warmed to the idea and its benefits, but Anaís loved to play the martyr when she could get away with it. He’d watched her bat her eyelashes and play the petite girl with delicate pale skin and blond hair and blue eyes, she could sprout tears on demand and used her femininity as a weapon. It mislead many into thinking that is all there was, but there was a cold, ruthless streak and iron-will there that Roche was proud of. Anaís was determined not to suffer the same fate as her father.

He could hear her refill her cup and his with the hideous concoction while Roche closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. This negotiation was going to be a nightmare but he fully trusted Anaís to see it through.

He suddenly felt cool fingertips against his own and opened his eyes to find the Queen very close, rubbing delicately at his temples, just under his chaperon.

‘Poor Vernon.’ Anaís teased. ‘Do I make life so very hard for you?’

‘Yes.’ Roche grumbled, with a grin to soften the blow.

The Queen laughed a soft, delicate tinkling sound that even made him smile. She had grown up beautifully Roche had to admit. Soft pale skin that made his look olive hued and ruddy in comparison, cheeks pink flushed from their sparring session, and large doe-eyes in a shade of deep blue.

‘So, possibly my last night of freedom.’ Anaís said as she practically downed her drink in one go. ‘What shall we do?’

‘Your majesty?’ Roche didn’t like the sound of that.

‘We could get Ves round, have a few drinks. Or the arm wrestling competition with the rest of the-‘

Roche cut her off quickly with a short laugh. ‘No, and no. The last time I let you out with my men you almost ended up with a blue stripes tattoo, which I’m sure would look lovely on a Queen, and I also lost two days with those louts as they were too hung over to do any work.’

His protest was met with an amused pout. ‘Fine, I’ll think of something else fun then.’ Arms were suddenly around his neck before Roche knew what had happened, a hug from Anaís wasn't new, but the press of soft lips against his own took him entirely by surprise.

The front of her warm supple body pressed against him and Roche found himself automatically wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned into him on her tiptoes. It was when he felt the little kitten-like flick of her tongue against his lips that reality came crashing back around him and he struggled to pull away from her tight embrace.

The Queens eyes fluttered open, lips parted slightly and distractingly glossy and wet. She smirked at the puzzlement on his face, watching him with a lazy smile and hooded, dilated pupils.

'Anais. ..' Roche started, but she remained resolutely pressed against him and his voice waivered. Damn it.

She gave him a condescending smile, the kind she always gave him meaning he had already lost.

'Tomorrow we will be at the Redanian camp and negotiations begin, and I’ll be married off to some prince that thinks he is better than a god.'

'For the good of Temeria.' Roche interjected with little enthusiasm and Anaís nodded solemnly in agreement. 'For the good of Temeria.'

The Commander had never actually felt bad about talking her into the proposal, but the look on her face now… he felt an unusual twinge of guilt.

'Give me one night of fun and passion with a man I actually love. '

Roche scoffed. 'You do not love me.'

She smiled at him, a bright and trusting one that he didn't deserve. 'Of course I do. Are you so insensible to your own charms, Vernon?'

He felt a Sharpe tug on his chaperon and it slid off his head. Roche shivered as the cool air caressed the back of his neck, feeling suddenly very naked.

Her delicate finders followed his collar around and caressed the short, cropped hair at the nape of his neck and the shudder this time was in no way innocent.

'You’re not a bad looking man, Vernon. A good, and loyal, man deep down. You are a strong soldier...' She sighed heavily. 'You came to get me in Loch Muinne.'

Roche shook his head. 'I owed it to your father.'

'Still, no one else bothered, or cared enough.'

Her thumb tracing the back of his neck was raising goosebumps across his skin and pleasant shivers to trail down his spine. The nearness of a soft, willing female body was stirring heat in his own. Roche could feel the strong muscles in her arms around his neck but, more distractingly, the round curves of her breasts pressed against his chest. Her lips were parted and only inches from his, he could chose to close the small space and kiss her again.

Did he love her? Roche wasn’t sure, he had never considered it, he wasn’t sure he had the capacity. She was the ruler of Temeria; he was a Commander of the Special Forces. He would lay down his life for her safety, he would sacrifice his unit’s lives if it was a choice between them and her, but that was simply being a good and loyal soldier, was it not?

'You are not quite a knight in shining armour, Vernon, but how could a girl not fall in love with her rescuer?'

Roche shook his head and disentangled her arms from around his neck; she was viewing it as a romantic fairy-tale that she should be took old for. 'Do you have any idea what they would do to me for sleeping with...no, I can't do it.'

The Queen pouted at him, but it was the fake kind that she often used to twist people around her little finger. 'Do you not think that I’m attractive?'

Her voice sounded hurt and small. Roche narrowed his eyes, he had seen the act all too often. 'Don't play that card with me, your _majesty_ , it won't work.'

Anaís brightened and smirked at him, laughing lightly at being caught trying to manipulate him like a naughty child. She turned and sauntered towards the bed, casting coy glances over her shoulder. Roche he could only watch her while she swayed her hips all the way.

Had he looked at her before now? Yes, he will admit that he had looked at her the way any man would look at an attractive woman, but it had been quick and distant fantasies, not something that he consciously thought about or lingered upon. The way her shirt clung to her curves as she sweated during training, the delicate dimple in her cheek when she laughed, or the delicate floral fragrance he enjoyed the smell off when she glided past him.

When Anaís reached the edge of the bed, she fumbled a moment with the laces of the leather trousers and quickly shimmied them down. The shirt was long and covered her arse but Roche was treated to the sight of her long, pale, creamy legs.

She was beautiful, he wasn't lying, and it wasn't false flattery of a monarch. But this was wrong on many levels and despite an overwhelming desire to go ahead and indulge, he would not be joining her.

'Your majesty, _please_.' He tried to persuade her to see reason; it took him a few tries to find his voice though.

She only glanced demurely over her shoulder, finally turning towards him to pull the shirt slowly up her thighs, waist...

Roche swallowed hard, watching the show with a fatalistic fascination as inch by inch of soft, supple skin was revealed.  When the shirt was lifted over her head and discarded with a flourish she was left in nothing but a pale pair of the frilliest knickers he had ever seen, and he had frequented a few whore houses in his time, and a breast band.

Anais edged backwards on to the bed becoming him with his finger and Vernon found his legs moving him involuntary closer.

'You are supposed to be my bodyguard Commander, come guard my body then.' She purred at him, and he was left wondering where this vixen had come from

Roche was at the edge of the bed staring down at her delicately sprawled upon the covers before he knew it. Her hand was idly stroking back and forth across her taught stomach and all Roche wanted to do in the world was touch her too, to see if that pale, unblemished, skin was as soft as it looked, and if she tasted like she smelled; delicious.

Sitting up, Anais grabbed his belt and tugged sharply with a strength he found surprising given her slender frame. Vernon’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell forwards, catching himself on his forearms just in time to stop himself crushing her.

She smiled mischievously at him, biting a full pink bottom lip. Wiggling into a comfortable position under him, Roche could feel her thigh push between his legs, and when she shifted, it brushed his groin. It took more effort than necessary not to groan aloud at that slight touch.

Now that he was down here, he found that all reasoning as to why he shouldn’t had fled his mind completely. The eager, panting woman under him wanted pleasure and he would damned well make sure she got what she wanted.

Ignoring her lips for now, Roche ran his tongue along her long neck, kissing along her chin along and jaw line as he went. He was rewarded with a low breathy moan, an enchanting noise that shot straight to his dick.

She writhed under him, every action encouraging more, and he couldn’t help himself. Roche let a hand wander across her arm, along the curve of her hips. He was right; she was as soft as she looked, no doubt more so under his sword-calloused hands.

Anais hooked a leg around his hip, pulling him even closer against her, bodies now impossibly tight. It placed him nestled between her legs the tenting of his erection through his trousers intimately pressed between her legs.

Hissing, Roche bucked against her, fabric scrapping the head of his cock in an almost unbearably painful fashion. He couldn’t take this teasing. He had to stop, stop this and get up and walk away before he got himself and her into trouble, it would be the gallows for him and fuck knows what would happen to her.

The throaty gasps and moan in his ear only encouraged him however. Roche never claimed to be a good man, or not to have selfish impulses, and while he knew full well he should put a stop to this right now he kissed her again because he wanted to.

Anaís’ lips parted allowing him to slip his tongue past her teeth to begin a fierce, overwhelming caress with hers. She gave as good as she got, bucking against him, using the rough fabric along the front of his coat to rub herself against. She captured his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging gently whilst pulling at his coat eagerly. 'Too many clothes, Vernon'.

He wanted to be naked and press his unclothed body against hers, but first he would explore. With a little fumbling he managed to get her breast band loosened and unwrapped. He kissed her as he palmed one of her breasts, testing the weight in his hand. When he brushed his thumb over a dusky pink nipple, Anaís moaned into his mouth and arched her back. She was eager for more and Roche obliged happily, dipping his head to suck the hardened peak into his mouth. Her reaction was unrestrained and delicious.  He wanted to see what low noises she would make for him, and just how much she would wriggle when he placed his mouth on another intimate peak a little lower down.

Roche entertained himself for a while teasing her breasts with his mouth and hands, her fingers running through his hair in encouragement. When he felt her getting restless he turned his attention downwards, following a meandering line down her body, kissing across any stray freckles and moles he came across.

Reaching the waistband of her knickers, he slowly kissed a line back and forth her lower abdomen until she mewled for a more intimate touch. Roche took a moment to wonder where Anaís would get such clothing, more at home on working girls than and Queen.  He couldn’t imagine her tailors making such underwear for her.

Glancing up the line of her body, those blue eyes were wide and dilated, watching him nestled between her spread legs with eagerness. Roche rubbed his cheek along the inside of her thigh, allowing the stubble from his jaw to scratch along her skin.

‘I’m curious where these come from?’ His warm breath tickled across her stomach and the flesh quivered lightly under him as he plucked at the silky fabric.

Anaís licked her lips with an impish grin. He could see that she was considering not telling him before she finally admitted. ‘Ves.’

Roche almost groaned, typical. Trust Ves to be a bad influence. He kissed up her thigh almost coming to the junction between her legs. His nose brushed the fabric and Anais sighed. When he pressed a finger between her legs, just deep enough to brush the hardening nub of her clit then he could see a small wet patch form through the silky material.

Anaís bit her lip, eyes on him as he continued nipping gently along her bare thigh, stopping just short of that interesting underwear, and causing a low, frustrated moan to escape her lips. The Queen’s hips raised high off the bed, indicating what she was so eager for.

‘You probably don’t want to know what else me and Ves have been up to.’

It was said with a slight purr and mischievous glint in her eye. Ves and Anaís were as thick as thieves, but did she mean that the two women had…

He took a nice few moments to picture the very attractive Ves and Anaís in bed together…it was an arousing thought.

The queen cuffed him hard on the shoulder with a grin. ‘I know what you’re thinking about, you perverted man.’

Roche grinned with her, kissing along her bare thigh with gentle presses of his lips.

‘Well you paint such an interesting image’

He would have had harsh words with Ves for sleeping with a monarch, especially when she was under his command, but given what he was currently doing then it would be slightly hypocritical.

Roche and Ves had a thing at one point. They had been together a lot of years, and while they tried not to mix work and pleasure they were both hard working, lonely at times, and in need of a little intimate relaxation. There could possibly have been more between them than sex at one point, if he had been a better man, more faithful to a woman than his work, and Ves didn’t live solely for enjoying the moment. She was too insecure to have a relationship and he was too selfish.

Slipping his thumbs under the waistband of her knickers, he tugged downwards. The satin slipped over Anaís’ soft skin easily.

There was no going back now, he had come to her willingly, kissed, her, stripped her, and would enjoy his mouth and hands all over her body. Tomorrow he could worry about trying to gain some semblance of normality.

Roche inhaled deeply and let out a low breath. God her could smell her arousal already. His breath ghosted across the dark blond curls between her legs and Anaís moaned and wiggled for him. The way her back arched, pushing her breasts up, thighs parted slightly giving him a tantalising peak of wet pink folds.

He curled his fingers around her hips, drawling her legs apart wider to accommodate his shoulders, and settled himself comfortably on his stomach.

She was panting in anticipation, pupils dilated and watching him eagerly.

Roche dipped his head, kissing her everywhere but the little peaking bud she so desperately wanted him to.

Anaís’ fingers curled into his short hair, fingernails scratching his scalp lightly in protest at his teasing. Her hips wiggled and he was forced to pin the lower half of her body to allow him his way.

When Roche finally dipped his tongue into her, Anaís whimpered and let out a long keening moan until he had to remind her that there were guard’s right outside and perhaps she should be a little quieter.

She encouraged him with small movements in her body for more, which he was only too happy to oblige, sucking and flicking his tongue over her clit until she was panting and shaking under him.

His gaze flickered upwards, Roche loved watching the slender line of her body buck and writhe under him, breasts pushed high and thumb grazing over her nipple while she played with herself.

When she peaked in orgasm her quivering thighs all but close around his ears, muttering his name in a low breathy whisper, and Roche took a small sliver of smug pride knowing he had just made the Queen of Temeria cum using nothing but his mouth.

He continued lapping her gently until she was left boneless and panting, sprawled across her bed with a happy, sated glow.

When Roach finally nuzzled his way slowly back up her body, and dipped his tongue into her mouth feeding her her own taste, he was eager to join his body with hers.

Anais tugged his tunic with impatient growl, _'off'_ was issued more sternly than any command he had received previously.

Sliding off the bed to his feet, he couldn’t quite take his eyes of the enticing sight of her naked, cheeks pink flushed from her orgasm and pussy practically dripping in arousal. He shed his layers of military clothing as quickly as he could but numerous straps and buckles and weaponry prevented him carrying out his Queen’s wishes.

Anaís watched him with amused eyes. ‘So many weapons…I'm surprised you don’t clank when you walk, Vernon.’

‘I’ve learned the hard way to always carry extra.’

‘I suppose you have.’ She said softly, her smile faded around the edges and Roche cursed himself. Was she thinking of her father? Roche blamed himself, he wondered why she never. For a brief moment, uncertain suspicions rose in his chest. Anaís was very shrewd when she wanted to be and he was in no doubts she could play him if she wanted to. An unpleasant thought crossed his mind, what if she did blame him, at least partially, for Foltest’s death. Could this sudden desire for him be her long awaited payback, or revenge. A word from her and he would be arrested. All she had to do was cry rape at the end of his and Roche would be in a lot of trouble. Has she kept him so close all these year to make sure she got the most pleasure out of betraying him?

Roche watched her, lying carefree and happy on the bed and hated himself for even letting such thoughts cloud his mind, for being the type of person to automatically assume the worst. Forever the Special Forces commander, never off the job, seeing traitorous actions everywhere.

The queen looked at him concerned, something must have told on his face. ‘What’s wrong, Vernon?’

Roche shook himself, letting the last of his clothing fall to the floor. ‘Nothing, your majesty.’

Anaís laughed heartily. ‘Your majesty? You might want to start calling me something else; given your mouth has just done some wonderful things that I shouldn’t really be privy to as your monarch.

She scooted over on the bed to give him room and Roche eased down onto the soft mattress. His hand skimmed up the curve of her hip, and he was about to settle himself on top of her when he felt two strong hands on his shoulders pushing him onto his back.

The queen grinned wickedly as he glanced up at her in surprise. Anaís kissed him this time, eager, mouth pressed firmly and tongue sweeping past his teeth to stroke his own.

Swinging her leg over his body, she straddled his hips, pressing herself against his straining cock and Roches hips bucked upwards, seeking the warm, wet heat of her.

Anaís places her hands on his chest, fingernails scrapping slightly across his bare skin. He tried to sit up, to kiss her, wrap his arms around her and pin her under him but she pushed him back down against the pillows with a smirk.

‘My turn to play with you, Commander.’

With his hands on her hip, Roche ground her against his groin, cock slipping through her folds and coating himself with her arousal. It was almost too much to bear.

Rising up slightly, Anaís gripped his shaft, positioning him at her entrance and sank down onto him slowly, inch by agonising inch.

Her eyes fluttered closed and lips parted in ecstasy as she finished by steeling her backside against his thighs.

Roche’s fingers dug into her hips, he was left biting the inside of his cheek in effort not to come at the sight of her beautiful blond head thrown back and the look of utter pleasure on her face. Gods she was tight from this angle, and the sight of her naked body above his was making his arousal almost painful.

Anaís moved and the sensation was almost overwhelming, Roches eyes snapped shut and he hissed a few expletives that drew a wide smirk from the woman above him.

Opening his eyes, he watched the tantalising sight of the Queen buck and sway above him, her body riding his in a furious pace. He reached up, drawing his palms across hips, her ribs, before settling on her breasts bouncing so provocatively above him. Squeezing gently, Roche rubbed her nipples with his fingers until goosebumps crawled along her flesh and she was panting his name.

He smirked at her. She was enjoying the power over him, having him under her, hearing him moaning and begging her like the goddess she was. Anaís thought she had him but he wasn’t going to let her get the better of him, even when she reached forwards, placing a hand either side of his face so that her delicious breasts were just inches from his mouth. He sucked one bud into his mouth, rolling it across his tongue, before moving to the next.

Roche let her enjoy it for a while; he himself was enjoying the erotic sight of her taking charge of him. He could feel her thighs bunch and strain, her inner muscles tighten around him as she moved up and down, varying her movements with rolls of her hips, and causing him to bite his lip in an effort to stop from cumming on the spot.

Using tactics that would have helped in any brawl, Roche dug his heels into the soft bed and pushed firmly upwards, pulling Anaís around to change positions. He was now back firmly on top and the Queen gave a small squeak of protest and a giggle as she found herself sprawled back on the bed.

Roche buried his lips in the crook of her neck, kissing and sinking teeth into delicate flesh as firmly as he allowed without leaving marks. She had no such qualms, nails raking down his back as he slid into her soft, wet heat as deeply as he could, the small exciting pain spurring him onwards.

He thrust, firmly, using the strength of his back and hips, pushing her into the soft mattress with every rough stroke and she only begged softly in his ear for more. Blood was pounding in his ears, he wasn’t the man of his youth and couldn’t likely last long with such pleasant encouragement.

Roche saw her hand sneak down between their joined bodies, as if she knew he was almost done, a few final flicks of her clit sent her over the edge and he felt her convulsing around him. The feeling was more than he needed to push him over the edge, cock tightening almost painfully as he released into her body.

Both panting and exhausted, Roche sunk onto the bed pulling Anaís with him. His softening cock slid out of her with a small wet pop as he pulled her into his embrace, snuggling down under the covers. He allowed himself the luxury of lying next to her for a time, tucking Anaís under his arm to cuddle against his chest. Her warm breath tickled his collar as she exhaled and her fingers played with the coarse dark hair on his chest. They dozed, with Roche regretting that he would most likely need to sneak out her tent soon, lest anyone walk in and discover them.

‘When I marry Radovid-’ Anaís started in a small, unsure voice, and Roche almost sighed allowed, reality came crashing back around him with a very painful jolt.

‘-I was thinking…for service to my father, and I…I wanted to make you a...knight.’

That he had not expected, Roche almost choked. ‘What? No!’

Anaís rose up on her elbow to look him in the eye. She had her usual determined look that said she had made a decision and wouldn’t be deterred.

‘Why not? You deserve it.’

‘I do not deserve it.’ He muttered, shaking his head. ‘I am the son of peasants, and the other nobility would never accept my knighthood.’

‘But-‘

‘No, Anaís. Not this. I’m begging you. They already think I hold too much of your favour, a knighthood would be unacceptable and I don’t care what would happen to me but you are a good Queen, what Temeria needs, your judgement cannot be called into question.’

The Queen looked as if she were still contemplating it, but kept silent and agreed with him, for now. Roche knew he probably hadn’t heard the last on this topic but he would need to try his very best to dissuade her from that course of action.

She curled back against him, and he resumed stroking her hair.

‘I enjoy being a soldier. I wouldn’t be a good knight.’

‘You want to live the rest of your days with the Blue Stripes? As a Special Forces Commander?’ She asked, incredulously.

‘Yes.’ Roche said, quite earnestly. It was the only job he really knew how to do, and do well. He could practically hear the little cogs in Anaís’ brain working while she thought of some other horrific notion she could torment him with.

‘I suppose-’ she said mischievously, as her fingertips drew patters across his chest and stomach. ‘-you could be captain of the guard. I’m sure I will need loyal soldiers as bodyguards at the Redanian court.’

‘Very true, I wouldn’t trust them too much.’

‘A Captain with a bedroom very close to mine, I think, for safety you understand.’

Roche chuckled as he pictured the Queen of Redania and Temeria slipping out of her chamber at night to have an illicit affair with her Captain. Anaís would very likely be the cause of his early grave, but it might not be such a bad way to go.


End file.
